Sometimes Gintoki Does His Own Laundry
by Finite Sledgehammer
Summary: A drabble set during episode 206. Gintoki reflects on a few things.


**Sometimes Gintoki Does His Own Laundry**

Finite Sledgehammer

 _Gintama is Sorachi Hideaki's bizarro sandbox. I'm just playing in it. With gloves on though, 'cause I know what gorillas do in sandboxes. Takes place during episode 206, after Gintoki beats up the loan shark dudes, but before he shows up at the park._

Gintoki impassively watched the blood seep down the drain as water beat down on his head and shoulders.

It was not his blood.

Over the din of the shower he could faintly hear the washing machine downstairs. He usually tried to wiggle out of doing his own laundry, but times like these he didn't hesitate. He'd rather have Shinpachi get after him for not using the right detergent or something than have the kid wash a load of bloody laundry when he wasn't directly involved in the fight. Or even indirectly.

There were some things Gintoki didn't want the kids knowing about. At least, not in a real, tangible way. They probably knew he'd gone off to beat the shit out of some guys, but knowing he'd done something like that in the abstract was one thing; the reality of the aftermath was another. All things considered, it was probably a moot point to try to shield them from some of the things he did, but he tried all the same. They needed to maintain at least a few shreds of innocence. Or, at least, that's what he told himself.

He pulled the bar of soap off the shower caddy and quickly scrubbed himself down, rinsed off again, then shut the water off. For a few seconds, he simply listened to the water run down the drain, and the drip of the shower head. The entire building was quiet. Otose had gone off to bring Catherine home, and the kids had trailed after. Gintoki was to meet up with them at the park in a little while. He had something to deliver. It was the reason he'd had to lay the beatdown on some loan sharks. He really didn't care for Catherine, but some things were just too low to go without punishment.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel; quickly dried himself, then did his best to towel dry his hair. That was a futile effort too, but he did it anyway. He scowled; maybe he wasn't so worried about Kagura and Shinpachi's innocence as he was about this sort of thing becoming routine for them, the way it was for him.

It had been a while since he'd had to rough someone up like that; those early years of protecting Otose had involved a lot of fights, and beatdowns, but he'd long since established his status in the neighborhood as someone to avoid, and Otose as someone to be respected, so it had been fairly quiet on that front in the last few years (serious arcs aside). Even so, this was entirely too familiar. Take the back ways home to avoid people; immediately throw bloody clothing in the wash; shower; tend to any injuries; change into fresh clothes; then step back out into polite society like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn't just plowed through a dozen men like they were cardboard cutouts. Like he wasn't some kind of monster.

He rested the towel on his head and sighed as he wiped the fog off the mirror to make sure there wasn't a prominent bruise or something he hadn't noticed. There wasn't a mark on him. He was never sure if he should be proud of that, or concerned by it. He knew he was good, he knew what he was capable of, but it still seemed like it shouldn't be that easy. Not that he liked it when it _wasn't_ that easy.

He frowned then grabbed a second towel to wrap around his waist before he ambled across the apartment to raid his closet, even though he had the place to himself. He'd been house trained by living with Kagura, it seemed. He slid the door to his closet open and pulled out a fresh change of clothes. He had other outfits he could wear – mostly cosplay, but he tended to try to wear the same thing every day. Difficulties with drawing different outfits every chapter or episode aside, it made it much easier to hide what he's been doing. No one could really say the clothes he was wearing now were not the clothes he was wearing earlier.

The washer was done by the time he came down stairs to check on it. He pulled his yukata out first to make sure he'd pre-treated it correctly to keep the blood from leaving a permanent stain. He had, for the most part. There was a small patch near the hem that was a little discolored, but it wasn't anything particularly obvious, and it'd probably come out entirely in subsequent washings. The rest of his clothes were black, and didn't show anything, really.

He scowled down at the load for a few moments, mulling over leaving it there for Shinpachi to get, or bringing it up stairs to dry. It was one of the odd times he wished Otose had a dryer. Shrugging, he decided that there was only so far he could go to shield the kids, and brought the laundry up stairs to dry in the warmth of the apartment. Besides, he didn't want to get the third degree from Shinpachi for leaving wet clothes in the washer on a cold day. He and Kagura probably wouldn't say anything when they saw the clothes, anyway.

Sometimes he wondered how much they shielded _him_ from things.

* * *

A/N: Just something I've had sitting on the hdd for a while. Finally got around to posting it.


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